Unspoken
by elliott ashes
Summary: The first day of high school, Maria Perez rechristens herself Valencia. She names herself brave not for who she is but for who she intends to become. [Valencia/Heather femmeslash] [Character study of Valencia as potentially being on the autism spectrum]


This story was inspired by discussion of Valencia on Tumblr, particularly **poolsidescientist**'s thoughtful and convincing autistic Valencia headcanon. Thanks a (Rebecca) bunch to poolsidescientist for beta reading this, too! I am neurodiverse but not on the spectrum myself, so while writing this fic I researched by watching YouTube videos and reading articles by autistic women speaking about their own experiences. Any inaccuracies are entirely my own. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

This fic also addresses generalized anxiety disorder, negative self-talk, disordered eating, and obsessive tendencies (it has a happy ending, I promise!) in which I draw on my own experiences. Although I try not to be gratuitous, please be gentle with yourself while reading. The third section alludes to Valencia's experience with the English teacher, though there are no explicit details — it simply felt like it would be a disservice to the character to leave something so significant unaddressed.

Thank you for reading!

**x**

"I've been starving since 1998."

—Valencia, Season 1 episode 6.

**x**

The first day of high school, Maria Perez rechristens herself Valencia. She names herself brave not for who she is but for who she intends to become.

Every morning she wakes at 5:00 a.m., runs two miles in the California sunrise, then returns home for stretches and a bowl of oatmeal jewelled with fruit.

This year, she will do everything right. She will laugh at the right times, watching the faces around her for cues when she doesn't get the joke. She will twist at the silver bangles adorning her wrist, rather than biting her nails or pulling at the threads of her clothing. Better yet, she will stay still. But not too still. She will decode the unspoken rules that everyone around her seems to pick up without problem. She will make just enough eye contact.

She showers, rubs a complex series of lotions into her skin, changes into the outfit she planned a week in advance.

In the mirror, she practices smiling. Laughing. Batting her eyelashes.

This year, she will be just like everyone else.

(Over a decade later, a friend will make a comment about feeling like a jester in her very own Truman show, and Valencia will have to Google the reference. As she reads, she will lean back in her chair and let out a long breath, her jaw tense.

Yeah. Yeah.)

**x**

She imagines her life as a series of yoga poses.

Smile, but not too easily. Glare, but not too angrily. Look pretty, but don't look like you care whether your classmates think you're pretty. (Though of course you care. God, you care so much.)

It's a balancing act. Breathe. Dance your way through it. But don't look like you're trying to dance.

As her fellow students study math and chemistry, she sets her mind to deconstructing the alchemy of social interaction. Alone in the apartment she shares with her family, her mother at work and sister at ballet, Valencia watches movies — no, studies movies. Pauses to observe facial expressions, the timing of their laughter, making notes in a journal she locks with a key and hides deep inside her sock drawer.

_Was I sick the day in school they taught you how to be a normal person?_

She laces up her sneakers and runs.

**x**

This is the part she doesn't like to talk about. The part she doesn't know how to talk about.

She can't trust her judgement on what's normal. If Mr. _ acts like what's happening between them is normal, it must be. He's the one who knows how to behave.

Although Valencia is popular, inside she knows that she's the odd one out. The girl whose senses pulsate nauseously with the too-loud hallways, who sneaks away over lunch hour to a washroom stall or empty classroom and runs her fingers over and over through her hair, trying to still the electricity spasming painfully through her veins. The girl who studies social skills instead of trigonometry, who doesn't get the jokes, who craves contact but flinches when she's touched.

The girl who is lonely, flattered when someone shows attention, even if it feels wrong.

She has to see this situation as empowering. Otherwise, it's just desperate. And she's not desperate — she's brave.

When she tells her friends about the English teacher, she relays the story with a sly smile and a flip of her hair, waiting for their wide-eyed awe. But their eyes narrow, and she can't read the silence that follows. Soon after, they stop inviting her to parties.

They're just jealous, she tells herself, twisting her bracelets over and over.

Mr. _ begins answering her questions in monosyllables, making excuses to leave. A few weeks later, he no longer meets her gaze, looks out over the class as if she's not there at all.

She stops forcing herself to laugh at jokes, practices a condescending stare instead. Decides she doesn't like humour.

**x**

Valencia Perez wakes at 5:00 a.m. She runs three miles. Four. Seven. Valencia Perez wakes up at 4:30. She eats a bowl of fruit, no oatmeal. She watches a movie. She takes notes. She runs three miles.

Valencia Perez wakes at 4:00. She watches a movie. Takes notes. Runs.

Valencia Perez stops sleeping. She tries to eat a bowl of fruit but can't bring herself to swallow.

Valencia Perez runs three miles in the dark.

This year she will be perfect.

She eats a bowl of fruit. Or she doesn't. She sleeps, or she doesn't. She runs. She runs.

This year she will become a new person. This year she will disappear.

She imagines her life as a series of yoga poses.

**x**

Josh Chan walks in on her in an empty classroom.

"Hey, is this chem— Valencia?"

She's caught out: wringing her hands, pacing frantically. She's been feeling off all day; waking up from a nightmare, then filtering into the too-loud too-bright hallway, forcing herself to smile and socialize, unable to stop herself tearing at her nails in her pockets. All her senses jangle and she just wants all of this to _stop_.

And now Josh has seen her, and he'll tell everyone she's weird, the girl hyperventilating in an empty classroom. It's almost a relief. She's exhausted from pretending to be someone else.

"Hey, are you alright?"

He walks towards her, and she's too stunned to try to hide the redness of her eyes.

"I'm fine," she says through gritted teeth, and promptly bursts into tears.

He opens his arms to embrace her, and although she doesn't usually like to be touched, she leans into the comforting pressure, feels her breathing slow to match the steadiness of his.

**x**

Josh is popular but goofy; being around people comes easily to him. He's not exactly bright, and he has his… quirks, but he charms people without even having to try. For Valencia, who's been studying nonstop but still can't get a handle on the silent undercurrents of interactions, his easygoingness can be grating. Like he's taunting her about everything she can't do. But it's also a relief to have him around in social situations: now no one can question her right to be there. After all, she's with _Josh._

And when it's just the two of them, she doesn't have to perform so much. Rather than finding her interests weird, or intense, or unfashionable, he admires her enthusiasm, finds it interesting when she shows him the candles she's made or the photos she's taken. He shows her his magic tricks in return, and as dorky as it is, she cheers him on. It's nice to see him happy. Is this what happy feels like?

And when she melts down, he doesn't act like something is wrong with her. He just comforts her. He stays.

Maybe she's a real person after all.

She sleeps more easily, cuts down her running so that her joints no longer constantly twinge. Eating remains a challenge, however. She makes rules. It's easier with rules.

**x**

The problem with rules, though, is she can't turn them off. Slowly they cover more and more of her life, borders on a map expanding their territory until nothing is left unclaimed. Even her relationship with Josh doesn't escape. She makes a timeline of their future — prom king and queen, career goals, marriage. Success.

She'll control her life, command respect. No one will be able to hurt her.

She's aware it's a bit obsessive. And yet, it works, so what's the problem?

Hunger numbs her anxiety, makes her feel devoid of need. And although she still doesn't always pick up social cues, she's pretty enough to get away with it — which is another thing she's not supposed to say out loud, apparently, but it's _true._ When she points out another girl needs to pluck her eyebrows, or exchange her jeans for a size up, she's just stating a fact, trying to be helpful and participate in the conversation. But given the struck look on the girl's face, or the chorus of _ooh_s from onlookers, it's taken as cattiness.

But whatever, right? It earns her respect, a feared and envied position atop the social hierarchy.

It doesn't earn her many friends.

After school, she curls up on the sofa with a fat free yogurt and watches ghost hunting shows, ignoring the emptiness gnawing inside her. Not sure how much is hunger and how much is something else.

**x**

When she meets Rebecca, Valencia hates her. Or admires and wants to be friends with her, but also kind of hates her. Or wants to impress her, and wants to be liked by her, but doesn't want to be seen as wanting to be liked by her, or… something.

Rebecca doesn't act like people are supposed to act. It throws Valencia's whole system into disarray, makes her unsure how she herself is supposed to behave. Or to feel.

It's been a while since she tried to make a friend. Or since anyone has tried to make friends with her. Rebecca reminds her of Josh in that way; that odd openness, speaking her mind and getting excited as though that isn't anything to be embarrassed about. Valencia wants to tell her she's doing this wrong, that you're not just _allowed_ to talk about your interests and feelings like that. But she's also jealous. How Rebecca seems able to just _be_.

When Rebecca kisses her, Valencia loses it. That's not cute kissing, not how women are supposed to act. What is this, a ploy for sex? Has Valencia just been deluding herself that someone could be interested in her personality and not just her body? Or is it mockery, an elaborate joke at her expense?

Rebecca Bunch is not normal. And for Valencia, who has spent all her life striving for normality, that is a threat.

That night, as she sits on her yoga mat trying to meditate, she can't clear the tingle of sparks from her lips, can't stop the motor of her mind running over and over how she doesn't get that feeling from Josh.

The pit in her stomach expands until it feels like there's nothing left of her, just a space in the air where a person used to be.

(But isn't that what she wanted? She's in complete control of herself.

Isn't this what happy feels like?)

**x**

As she gets to know Rebecca, she learns that existing doesn't actually come that easily for her, either. Rebecca's a force of nature: bouncy and enthusiastic and uncontainable — but her lows are as intense as her highs, and Valencia is surprised to find the two of them supporting one another.

Around Rebecca, she doesn't have to filter herself so much. She talks about her candle-making and photography, first hesitantly and then with greater confidence. Even starts to like humour now that it isn't a way to exclude her.

She makes the first friends she's had in years, admires Paula's work ethic and Heather's interest in her studies. It's weird, talking to people who seem to care about things other than being-liked-while-pretending-not-to-care-about-being-liked. It's… exciting.

At night, as she lays in bed, even if Josh is no longer beside her, she somehow feels less alone.

She speaks more. Begins to trust herself.

**x**

One day she invites Heather over to watch ghost hunting shows. "This is so great, Josh was always too scared to watch these, I can't wait to show you — this episode's my favourite, it has Bloody Mary but, like, this really subversive take on her."

She blushes at the stream of words coming out of her mouth, but Heather smiles. "Cool."

Heather's writing a paper on the history of witchcraft, and Valencia is psyched.

She's not sure if it's a sugar high from the boba, or the excitement of talking about her interests, or the coolness of spending time with Heather — who is she kidding, it's all three. If she were on her own, she's be dancing now. Instead, she hums a little song as she sets up the DVD player.

Heather smiles and Valencia stops humming, her breath caught. "Sorry."

"For what?" asks Heather.

"You know, just being… a lot. I don't usually have sugar, and I…"

"Valencia, it's cool. I like that you're interested in this stuff."

The corner of Valencia's mouth twitches apprehensively. "Really?"

"Really. Now come on," Heather pats the space beside her, "let's watch subversive Bloody Mary."

Valencia's heart jumps in her chest and she curls up beside Heather, her insides fluttering with more happiness than nervousness, though the latter is not entirely absent. As the show plays across the screen, Valencia finds herself watching Heather more than the ghost hunters, trying to gauge if she's enjoying it.

As the hunters enter a dilapidated house and eerie music begins to play, Heather laces her fingers with Valencia's, squeezes.

"Are you scared?" says Valencia.

"Fear is not in my emotional vocabulary," says Heather. A crow caws onscreen and she jumps, pulls Valencia close. Valencia cuddles into her, feeling nervous herself, though not about the show.

All her life she's been trying to figure out the rules of behavior, but lately, she's been in more and more situations where she isn't quite sure what happens next. And that's very scary, but also… very cool. At least when it involves her beautiful, fascinating, smart, and funny friend in her arms. This is… yeah, this is nice.

Valencia isn't quite sure what she's feeling, but she doesn't want it to end.

When the episode draws to a close, ghost hunters unscathed despite many jumpscares that Heather never quite gets used to, the two remain cuddled into each other.

"Did you like it?" says Valencia.

"I liked this," said Heather.

"We should do it again."

"Totally."

And then Heather shifts her face towards her, so close Valencia can feel her breathing, and Valencia leans forward and kisses her. Heather opens her mouth and leans into the kiss, pulling Valencia close.

The moment hums between them, a closeness Valencia didn't know was possible. Her nerves light up in a way that feels good rather than overwhelming.

And then she freezes.

_Is this a joke? Should I be laughing now?_

"What's wrong?" says Heather, breaking off and looking at her with concern.

"This is real, right? It's not, like, a joke?"

"Definitely not a joke. V, we don't have to do anything you don't want to do — you know that, right?"

Valencia nods, biting her lip.

"Hey," says Heather, "I like you. And part of liking someone is you don't want them to do anything they're not comfortable with."

"I like you too," says Valencia. She twists at her hair. "Sorry, it's dumb, I get overwhelmed sometimes, with touching." She traces her hand down Heather's cheek. "But I like this. And you."

"That's not dumb at all," says Heather. "I want you to feel good, V."

"Then… can we go back to kissing?"

Heather smiles. "Totally."

As the two pull each other closer, Valencia's heart beats rapidly, but her hands are steady, no longer afraid of herself.


End file.
